The True Fans
by DevlinV1
Summary: [FIN:2004:Het] One superstar spends the night with a ring rat, and ponders over her and the other women in the world like her.


**The True Fans**

**By Archangel**

_A/N: I got into a heated debate about wrestlers and how they treat their "ring rats." Some people seem to think that rats are nothing but low life whores that get talked about maliciously behind their backs. It's not always like that, though. So here's a short story based upon actual events. No names are used in order to keep certain reputations safe. Don't ask who it's about because I will not tell you._

We come into the hotel lobby, shaking off the rain and the screams of the crowd that still make ours ears ring. I, personally, feel pretty damn good right now. I wanna have some fun. Of course, I'm never ready to go to bed even after a hard show. I'm a complete night owl. I glance over at my roommate with a certain smile that he can read all too well. He's known me for years and years. He knows my wiles. And we're lucky enough to get approached by a group of fans only a moment later. Of course, these aren't the typical people we meet everyday. It only girls in this group, all of them ranging from pretty to completely gorgeous, and all of them willing to do anything we ask. It's the same wherever we go. It's a new group in every city. Except for a select few that you start to recognize after a while. The true "ring rats" that follow us to every show. I hate calling them that. It's just not fitting for the majority of them.

We pass it off easily enough, signing a few autographs here and there, flirting heavily as always. I personally try to find a certain type of girl. She has to have a certain look. Meaning, she has to look nothing like my wife. Otherwise it kills my mood real quick. Soon enough a particular girl makes herself known to me, giving me a good long stare with her green eyes, gazing up at me from under her brown hair. She's so short, and very curvy. A far stretch from the usual girls, who are so determined to be the size of super models. She looks nothing like my woman who waits for me at home. She's perfect.

I glance over at my roommate, seeing he was still caught up in the center of the small crowd, indecisive as always. His loss because that means I get first dibs on the room. A quick grope of his back pocket reveals the room key and I snatch it easily enough. He probably didn't even notice it was my hand and not a girl's. I hate to lock him out, but I like my privacy. Some of the guys don't care how many people are in the room. Not me. Just me and one other girl. It's all I want. That's how I like it.

"Do you remember me this time?" she asks as I'm pushing the elevator button.

I have to look at her again, glancing her up and down. I smirk and shake my head.

"Nope. Should I?"

"You've picked me out three times before."

"Really? I guess that means you're doing something right."

She doesn't say anything more to that. She does seem slightly familiar, but it's hard to tell exactly where I've seen her before. Well, obviously I've seen her in my own arms, but there's been so many others aside from her. It's hard to keep count. Most of the time names aren't used either. So who knows who she is.

"Do I know your name?"

"You tend to call me baby, but that's about all."

"Baby? Ya know, usually I don't call girls that. I go for other words." I consider her again as the elevator doors shut behind me. "Baby. It's suiting. You have such a young face."

"It's the chubbiness," she says flatly.

"I like it."

I move in closer to her, pushing her back against the wall of the elevator, leaning down to kiss her lightly. I can smell her shampoo and her perfume. She smells like fruit or maybe candy. Her tiny hands move up over my chest, one resting over my heart while the other goes further up to run through my hair. I can tell now that she _has_ been with me before. She knows exactly where to scratch and how. If I were a cat I'd purr, and I tell her so. She smiles.

"You say that every time."

"I really need to start remembering people," I mutter.

I'm disappointed when the elevator dings and the doors open. I could've fallen asleep if she'd kept up her petting. Oh well, on to other things. I lead her to the room without another word. In fact we don't speak again until much later in the evening, after we've had our fun. And what fun we have. She's lively, a little wild, and she likes to take control. The best part is that she calls out my name over and over again all night. My real name, not my wrestling one. I love it when the girls do that. It proves that they pay attention to the reality of the situation.

"I remember you now," I whisper through my panted breaths when we're laying in each others arms. "Detroit, Toronto, and…"

"Chicago."

"Yeah. That was it."

"How'd you remember?"

"The tattoo on your shoulder. I remember you said you and I were both Scorpios."

"That we are. Which is why we're so good at this."

She grins at me wickedly, leaning over me as if she's ready to get up and go at it again.

"Sorry, Baby. This man is officially exhausted. And if I remember correctly, I always am after I'm with you."

She thinks about it a moment then nods. "Yeah, you and most of your friends."

"Maybe you're a little _too_ good at it. You're gonna kill one of us one of these days."

"I wouldn't do that."

I watch her as she gets up and goes to the bathroom. I hear the shower turn on not too long after. No big deal to me. Gives me time to rest. I remember her all too well now that we've finished. She's one of the girls that all the guys talk about. She's the one that is willing to do damn near anything, the one that loves sex and just can't seem to get enough. Some of us wonder if she's a nympho, but she says she's not. Either way she's one of the best lays out of all of the ring rats.

I dunno how much time has passed when she shakes me awake. I dozed off really quick this time. She smiles fondly at me, brushing my hair from my face, leaning down to kiss my cheek. Then she asks what room one of the others is staying in. I can't help but laugh.

"I'm not good enough for you huh?"

"Oh, you _are_ good, sweetheart. You're one of my favorites, but you know me. I just have to get my fuck on."

"Dear God, do I remember you now!" I laughed.

She giggled at me, perching lightly on the edge of the bed next to me. "Aw, I feel a little special now. Which is more than I can say most of the time when I'm out here with you guys."

"Don't worry about it. Ya know, we all talk about you girls behind your backs, but if we told the truth then everyone would know we're more than just average cheats. Ya get what I'm saying?"

"Kind of…"

No, she didn't. Silly girl. "You girls make life on the road a lot easier on us. You save marriages, believe it or not. You think she's happy to see me and jump my bones every single time I want? Nah. She has a headache, she's having her monthly bitch fest, or she's tired. You girls don't do that to us. You come, you give us all we want and more, and then you leave without expecting anything in return. You let us take out our frustrations so we don't carry it home with us."

"Somehow, that does actually make me feel a little better. Yet, a little more trashy all at the same time."

We both chuckled at that. "You're not the only slut in the room right now. Take comfort from that."

"I take my comfort from my boys." She leaned down and kissed me. "Which I'm going to do right now with my second favorite."

"Send him my regards."

"Nah. I don't think he'll want to know that he's getting your sloppy seconds."

I cringed slightly at that, but couldn't help the smirk on my face. She left without saying goodbye. No need really. I'd probably see her again eventually. Hopefully. If not for the ring rats, we'd all go crazy on the road.

I do hate that nickname for them. I don't call them that to their faces. I call them my true fans. They certainly do a better job of proving their love than all the others out there. Screaming at shows, buying merchandise, writing fan letters… It's all good and gravy. But if you're willing to let your hero use your body for his own pleasures, even when you know it's never going to be more than sex, that's true loyalty. These girls deserve more credit than they get. They live the same hard life as us superstars, following us from show to show, living out of motels and their own cars. Yet they only try to make us happy. That's love. That's loyalty. And if I wasn't married, I'd make sure every last one of them got the royal treatment they deserve.

But that's just me. And most of the other guys would say I put my heart into those girls too much. I can't help it though. It's hard not to love a girl who stares at you like you're the only thing in her world. It's also hard not to say it to them when those three little words are right on the tip of your tongue. I've slipped a couple times. I've said it before, but thankfully they seemed to understand how I meant it. I love them all. I love them for what they do for us, what they give to us, what they sacrifice for us.

It's thoughts and feelings like that that win me the towel swats I get in the locker room. annoyed sigh

**The End**

_Legalities: This story is based upon true events. The story has been changed and manipulated in order to protect the identities of the people involved. The author received absolutely no profit from this story._


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